First Bite
by sarenia
Summary: The first bite was always the best. The scrumptious crunch, the sweet explosion of taste in his mouth, drops of juice threatening to escape his quick tongue. Dramione one-shot, Battle of Hogwarts. M-rating for language. WINNER APRIL 2018 CHALLENGE ON DFF18 (please see A/N for details).


**I know, I know… I should totally get the new chapter of Appendices ready ;)! But I couldn't resist the little plot bunny hopping around in my head after reading the prompts. This short fic was written for the April 2018 challenge in the Dramione Fanfiction Forum 18 group on FB. M rating for language. No smut this time :P.**

 **Against all expectations, I've won that challenge, and I'd like to say a huge thanks to the admins for hosting it and voting, and to everyone for participating and sharing their wonderful fics! 3**

 **Prompts:**

 **Apple (verbatim)**

 **Rubble (verbatim)**

 **Stupefy (verbatim)**

 **"Why would they want me?" (verbatim)**

 **Setting: Battle of Hogwarts**

 **Word count: 100-1000 (mandatory)**

 **All my thanks go to** riptide **for the—as usual—amazing work as beta reader 3!**

 **Cross-posted from AO3. My user name there is sarena.**

 **Disclaimer: All rights belong to JK Rowling and her publishers. I just borrow the characters and the world for a bit; the plot (as little as there is) is mine, though. This is a non-profit work, and no copyright infringement is** intended.

The first bite was always the best. The scrumptious crunch, the sweet explosion of taste in his mouth, drops of juice threatening to escape his quick tongue.

Just that this apple wasn't in its shiny prime anymore, with having been buried deeply in his pocket, and him dodging wayward and more than a handful of aimed spells for hours. _Stupefy_ and _Protego._ _Confringo_ and _Expelliarmus_. _Petrificus Totalus_ and _Finite Incantatem._ And, last but never least, the sickly green of _Avada Kedavra_ had shimmered between moving forms for an eternity.

Sometimes they stopped moving then.

The battle had slowed down. Both sides were exhausted—he definitely was, could hardly keep himself on his feet anymore, and, with his magic so close to being completely drained, he just might burn himself out with the next few spells—and all the dust from falling rubble and smoke from burning furniture and tapestries blocked any clear view on friend and foe. He slumped against the shadowed wall in his back, careful to keep his non-verbal silencing spell intact so he could catch his breath and finish his apple, at least.

"Draco."

He flung his head in the whisper's direction and pointed his wand at the slight visual disturbances in the air to his right. The outline of a witch solidified after a long second. _His_ witch. He lowered his wand and the half-eaten apple in his other hand dropped into the unidentifiable mixture of coarsely ground stone and ash.

"Are you fucking crazy? What are you doing here? Why aren't you in London? I fucking _told_ you to stay away from Hogwarts," he hissed, and dragged her closer by her arm—not her wand arm, never the wand arm—not just to pull her into the reach of his silencing charm, but also to finally feel her against him again. It had been too many months of too-short letters, and he was so fucking done with it all.

She cupped his cheek and rubbed her thumb over what he assumed were flecks of dirt, or maybe blood. "It's time."

He pressed a hard kiss on her lips. "We've been over this so often in the past three years. Why would they want me? I'm a _Death Eater_ , and I've"

She slipped her other arm around his back, and he winced when she grazed a sore spot on his side. "Half of the Order would be _dead_ if not for you." He wrapped both arms around her, although he kept a secure grip on his wand.

" _They_ don't know that, Hermione. And if you get fucking hurt today because you stubborn Gryffindors just can't stay away when I fucking say so, they'll never know!" he spat out as quietly as he was able to, his eyes darting around and looking for the slightest suspect movement but he only saw the remains of his apple between broken masonry, all inedible now. As she just had proved, the secluded and dark spot in this remote corner didn't protect him from discovery. Of course, there was the vague possibility that she just knew him too well. Or maybe she'd infused the scarred mark from her bite on his pectoral with a location charm. He did feel a bit warm over his heart.

"Look," she whispered, "Harry's dead. We have a plan, and we can't fail. We _can't_! Do you understand?"

"He's the _Chosen One_. How—" Her pained look with that telltale wetness in her eyes shut him up. He swallowed, then nodded once while he pressed her closer. His barely suppressed grunt told of bruised or broken ribs.

"We've developed a marking charm. I'll place it on you," she said, and tapped various parts of his body with the tip of her wand. "We'll need every able wand hand. Where's your mother?"

"Severus."

She looked at him sharply. "Will you be able to…" Her words dripped off.

"I don't—" He shook his head slightly. "I have to. He's passed the threshold of insanity a long time ago." He felt her fingers digging into his back when her face pressed against his chest, and his whole body _hurt_ but he didn't let her go.

She pulled his head down and kissed him properly. Hermione's lips were rough but he couldn't care less; his own probably tasted like blood from all the times he'd bitten on them or the insides of his cheeks. He brushed his tongue against hers and savoured the moan escaping her mouth, his lips chasing hers when she broke the kiss.

She smiled against him, with just a split-second glint of yellow around her pupils, and then took a deep breath with her nose in the crook of his neck. "I've missed you so much," she mumbled. The following peck only made him long for more. "I have to change your hair. You can't have that beacon of blond when we enter the Great Hall."

He reluctantly straightened his back while trailing his fingertips over her jaw and neck, just to see if he could make her eyes flash up again. A smug smirk followed his success. "Just nowhere close to red."

She looked torn between affront and amusement, but she conceded with a tilt of her head. Her magic swirled around his head, tickling the roots of his hair, and he couldn't resist scratching his scalp. "Curls, Granger? Really?"

She snickered, and then took his hand and squeezed it in assurance. "Let's bring him down."

He pressed hers back with so much force that he almost expected her to flinch a little, but he wasn't that surprised when she didn't. The scars on his back from her claws were proof enough that she was more than capable to squeeze his hand to pulp, if she'd ever feel inclined to do so. He silently vowed to himself that nobody would separate them for so long again after this very day, no matter how it ended.

"Yes. Let's."

 **Praise and constructive criticism are very welcome! Your favourites and comments make my day, and I'd love to hear what you think 3.**


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